Robin Murray The
ETIC and Me
was flattered when John asked me to join this forum but not really sure
what I could say to add to a discussion that has been ongoing since the
ETICs’ inception. Going on seven years ago now, I attended a workshop
(again led by Randy) that introduced the ETIC desktop. The introductory
session inspired me to put together a brief guide to the ETIC for students,
taking them through the process of saving documents in my folder and accessing
the folder for assignments and other student papers for peer review. The
guide highlighted ways to save email onto disk from Eudora and emphasized
the need to log out each session. With guide in hand, the students and
I saved and retrieved documents from the work folder marked with my name
and used Eudora as an online discussion tool. All seemed fine until I
realized that access to the ETIC outside of class time was minimal—and
so was access to that pesky folder. I won’t dwell on the failures
of the system itself.
Instead—grabbing onto a loosely interpreted tenet from Cynthia Self—my
use of the technology integrated classrooms attempts to benefit students
at all phases of the writing process. I refuse to allow technology to
drive composition, but I still believe technology helps students improve
their writing. Because I’m an old fashioned writing process theorist
still attached to hard copies, most of this is both self-evident and rather
dull, but I’ll dutifully outline ways technology benefits my own
composition instruction:
-
When students begin generating ideas for documents, brainstorming
on a computer in a simple word processing program seems to facilitate
greater output—not all good, of course—than do pen and
paper.
- Computer
access also (potentially) enhances students’ research skills.
The library browser provides them with a plethora of full text articles,
allowing access to more current research in their area of study. Evaluation
of online sources—both from the library and the Internet—may
also enhance students’ analytical and critical thinking skills;
skills I hope will transfer to other documents and “texts.”
-
Students tend to write more fluid drafts on a computer—or at
least the drafts look better and are easier to read.
-
Students also tend to generate more commentary on a computer than
in long hand, when critiquing a peer’s draft in a peer review
session.
- Computers
(also potentially), or at least word processing software, can also
ease students’ revision process—you know, the old copy
and paste, cut/delete, add stuff (as long as students don’t
see a typed draft as a finished document).
-
And those final drafts are at least readable.
Lately,
however, I have found the faculty computer and projector of most use in
composition, literature, pedagogy, and film classes. With handwriting
as illegible as mine, typing notes, instead of writing them on a board,
helps. But this kind of “note-taking” also allows me to provide
a record of class discussion—I type up (in brief) commentary, save
it, and then use it as a way to begin discussion on
later occasions. Having such a readable record can also help students
see what they have learned during the semester—a sort of record
of pre- and post- beliefs, ideas, thoughts (etc.) about the course focus.
I also like to integrate art into literature (and even film) classes—and
the Internet allows me to download and show images from museums all over
the world. Having student stations on hand, however, allows students to
practice the skills we model – via computer/projector, or some more
traditional technology like chalk.
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Mary Maddox This
Week’s Assignment
hen I got
my first computer about twenty years ago, I had no intention of using
it to write stories. The idea of “word processing” seemed
mechanical and uncreative. I thought of the computer as a new-fangled
typewriter. I would write my stories longhand then type them on the computer
to print. No more messy correction fluid! But from the first day I went
from simply transcribing to revising onscreen—changing a word here
and there, refashioning or moving a sentence. It was only a day or two
before I stopped bothering with the handwritten draft. Writing on the
computer was so much faster and less cumbersome than a pen or typewriter.
My imagination seemed to become suppler and freer; I wondered how I’d
managed to write all those years without a computer.
Then something terrible began to happen. I couldn’t open my files.
They were on the disk, but the word processor couldn’t open them.
I ran a diagnostic program and discovered the file directory had been
corrupted. A computer expert at the university told me the same thing
and explained why the data couldn’t be salvaged without that directory.
My stories would have been lost if I hadn’t made printed copies
before saving.
Finally I worked out the problem. In those days computers were primitive.
There was no hard drive, so every time a computer booted, the operating
system had to be loaded into memory from a floppy disk. I stored my disks
in a plastic box between the power cords for the CPU and the printer.
The cords created a magnetic field that over time corrupted data on all
the floppies, including the MS-DOS floppy. The corrupt operating system
was destroying the file directories on my disks.
I felt some satisfaction at discovering what was wrong. Next time I would
know better. Before long I was shopping for a newer and more advanced
computer, one that would give me problems beyond my wildest imaginings.
All of them had a solution, though, and each one taught me something.
This cycle of enthusiasm and frustration has repeated
itself many times through my computing career, including my successes
and failures in the ETIC. I’m excited by the possibilities of the
Internet for communication and information gathering—not to mention
the occasional game of online Scrabble. I can hardly wait until the new
network in the ETIC is up and running. It won’t be perfect, but
I expect to learn as much in there as my students.
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Martin Scott
am not a Luddite. I love my computers—I do all my
writing on computers, I do a lot of editing of student essays on computers,
I surf the net obsessively, I love email, and I buy a lot of crap online.
I have a cable internet hook up so I can Download Things Faster—you
know, Things. I’ve owned more computers now than I’ve had
wives, and that’s getting to be something to say. I’m writing
this amusing little essay on a computer now, and gee whiz, It Sure Is
Easier to Write On a Computer, Isn’t It, Kids?
Big deal. I find the whole ETIC thing a crashing bore (crashing is the
operative word here), and I have no interest in teaching a class in a
room that has an acronym all its own. OK, so the ivy digging its tentacles
into the outer walls of academe has been replaced by miles of cordage
reaching inside the hallowed halls, binding us in jolly hyperspace, blah
blah blah, fill in the postmodern blanks.
It’s certainly true that computers are fine tools, and it’s
also true that the educated public has adapted to their use, and that
computers will be here until the Apocalypse erases all the data from their
little silicon heads, but computers don’t teach anyone how to write.
Writers teach people how to write. And frankly, I think a room full of
monitors is nothing but a big distraction from that obvious fact. I also
think the real reason Arts and Humanities types like to work with them
so much is because we have a huge inferiority complex before the Hard
Sciences—“Look at us, see, we can use these dandy boxes you
guys made, see, I’m correcting a sentence on my monitor, and the
student is all the way across the room!” You know those Hard Science
guys (yes, mostly GUYS) are having a good chuckle about that one. “Dude,
check this out, the English Dept. has a computer classroom!” Various
unwashed guys in boxers and long hair fall to floor laughing. “They
look at their students’ work on the monitor . . .in the same classroom!”
Well, the professor could always walk the ten feet to the student and
see what she’s written on paper, but then that wouldn’t be
High Tech, would it? If we have an ETIC, that justifies our existence,
because we all know just teaching Writing doesn’t sound very glamorous,
does it? But if we’re spending the public’s money on high-tech
devices that fall apart in a few years, damn, we’re making Progress,
especially according to all the Latest Research.
I don’t understand why the ETIC is even an issue. Of course it falls
apart—it’s manufactured by the same system that makes our
cars fall apart after a few years so we have to buy more. People, hello,
it’s SUPPOSED to fall apart. And once you’re committed to
it, you can’t back out, because that would be admitting Defeat.
No, just get the Sacred Update. That’ll fix it. I know that Professor
Hanlon thinks that if we all had Macs instead of PCs, everything would
be Jim Dandy, but I’m only willing to believe they’d be Prettier,
and, well, yes, maybe even Spiffier. I have sneaked a peek or two at his
Mac laptop, nicknamed Skippy, and I must say the nickname does the electronic
device justice.
But writing is about people. Nothing else really matters all that much;
clay tablets work as well in a pinch if you need to write an epic poem.
We use whatever tool is at hand, because we need to speak—the need
to communicate clearly and beautifully is the issue, not the tool. Writing
takes place in the human brain, not in some reified Hyperspace we imagine
has some importance beyond mere convenience.
And
computers are pretty, hard phalluses we love to stare at day in and day
out, but they’ve got nothing to do with the essential contract.
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Lynanne
Page
The
Conundrum of Mechanized Learning in the English Department
Higher education is profoundly obligated to teach students to use technology.
Despite the complications it can cause for teachers and administrators,
technology has revolutionized research methods and ways of learning, allowing
access to an astounding collection of information.
Arguably, the composition sequence, by teaching students to process information,
relies more heavily upon technology than any other sequence in the humanities.
Yet our use of technology in the English classroom rests upon a set of
conditions which must be considered in any examination of the ETIC. EIU’s
egalitarian approach to the cost of education creates difficulty in providing
enough shoulders to comfortably bear the burden of mechanized learning.
This difficulty is intensified, of course, by the budgetary problems which
we are experiencing, but also by our commitment to quality teaching, which
allows less time for inevitable technological malfunctions.
Until now, we have negotiated these complications using a combination
of cooperation, patience and determination. Now that the ETIC has been
rebuilt, we are confronted by the combination of opportunity and challenge
which accompanies all technological advance. Our educational philosophy,
of which our commitment to humanistic, egalitarian education is a part,
will allow us to continue unraveling the conundrum of the electronic composition
classroom.
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Christopher
Hanlon
pparently
Marty suggested to John that it might be fun to bait one of the Macintosh
users in the department by getting me to comment on life in the ETIC,
as if Agora gets a dime every time it forces a representative
of some vanquished people to dance a jig for his conquerors. Whatever.
But if they expect me to reward this cheap gambit with a diatribe about
how awful PCs are—if they expect me to opine on the pointless and
stupid right-click, or rehearse the old rant about how Bill Gates stole
from Steve Jobs the three or four things that actually work well in Windows,
or to ask, rhetorically, who would choose to spend their life dealing
with memory management, interrupts, DMA channels, SYSTEM.INI files, or
system freezes—I won’t do it.
The
truth is I know Mac users can be evangelical, not to mention dorky. Dana’s
even taken to mocking me by naming my powerbook “Skippy” (as
in, “So how’s Skippy today?” or “Spend any quality
time with Skippy lately?” I’ll tell you, it just stays funny
no matter how many times I hear it). I’ve had students introduce
themselves as fellow Mac users after seeing me tote Skippy to class, and
I’ll confess I’ve lived to regret their friendliness after
the sixth or seventh after-class confab about how great it is to use one’s
iPod as an external hard drive, or about how like, lame it is that PC
users don’t understand that it’s not megahertz alone that
determines a CPU’s operating speed (eyeballs orbiting far back beyond
the point necessary to communicate duh!), or how they’ve programmed
Acrobat to operate by voice command. I remember the satisfaction I felt
last Spring connecting Skippy to a printer that would not cooperate with
Denise’s brand new Gateway, knowing as I did it would work perfectly
without the need to load new software, whereas she had to scour the web
for some obscure patch or driver. But it’s dorky that I felt satisfied.
So
yes, working with PCs in the ETIC has claimed more of my time than my
enthusiasm, but at some level I’ve learned to check my Apple-snobbishness
and to like being made to use PCs once in a while, and not only because
those virus-ridden calamities remind me how good I have it back in my
world. For one thing, one learns an awful lot about directory structures
working on a PC. Not to mention how to restart the machine. And most of
our students use PCs, so I view this short time with them in their element
as I imagine an anthropologist views her time amongst the denizens of
a primitive culture. They say that after a long day tracking the raw and
the cooked amongst the Amazonians, Levi-Strauss savored a cognac in his
tent. Similarly for me, fifty minutes in the ETIC always makes me turn
down the lights in my office so I can watch my keyboard with its ambient
light sensors light up automatically. Did I mention I can use my iPod
as an external hard drive?
Probably
the biggest difference between Mac and PC users concerns aesthetics, which
we have in surfeit and PC users have learned to live without. Macs are
gorgeous things, while for the most part PCs have remained the same old
box for the past fifteen years (though some clones emulate a bit of style
by plagiarizing the contours of last year’s Mac—badly). Umberto
Eco wrote in Harper’s a few years ago that the divide between Macs
and PCs is akin to the divide between Catholics and Protestants: yes,
in some sense PCs are more democratic (that is, cheaper), but one sacrifices
much beauty in bringing Word to the laity.
So since
they’ve clearly got what they wanted, go on and laugh, Marty and
John. Enjoy your next all-nighter with Norton Anti-Virus. I’m
not your pet monkey.
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